


Stepping on Toes

by BayPearl, Chimie_Chat



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Super Sons (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous Age, BatCat wedding, Dancing, Fluff, Illegal Softness, M/M, batfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 01:09:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15159110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BayPearl/pseuds/BayPearl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chimie_Chat/pseuds/Chimie_Chat
Summary: Jon wasn't used to formal events, least of all weddings. But going to Bruce and Selina's wedding was a great excuse to spend time with Damian. Of course, he'd need to swallow his own nerves first.





	Stepping on Toes

The fabric of Jon’s navy blue suit felt stiff and heavy. The matching bowtie was tight around his neck, and forced the collar of his dress shirt to rub awkwardly against his skin. He wanted to ditch his jacket at least, maybe hand it off to his mother or toss it on the back of a chair, but he knew if something happened to it then he’d be in way more trouble than relieving himself of the garment would be worth.

He had to admit, attending the wedding of Batman and Catwoman -- well, Bruce and Selina -- was definitely odd. Pleasant, but odd. The couple had already been married as their masked identities for almost three months before they decided to have a second ceremony that they could invite people outside of the caped-crusader community to, and allow their marriage to become public knowledge. Then again, he hadn’t been allowed to go the the first wedding, so this made up for it. Very few of the guests knew that they were already husband and wife, so the actual wedding ceremony was repeated in the Gotham City cathedral, before everyone relocated to a very elegant wedding hall for the reception.

At this point, dinner had long since been served, Bruce and Selina had their “first dance”, and slices of the four layered cake had been distributed. Jon had long since finished his second portion, more than he normally would have been allowed but a special occasion called for special privileges. Now he stood awkwardly, just off of the dance floor, fidgeting with the button on the cuff of his sleeve. His parents were enjoying themselves, which they definitely deserved. Jon had watched them dance one or two songs before losing interest. He scanned briefly over the other guests, but they were mostly a bunch of rich Gothamites he couldn’t care less about, until his ears picked up on the laughter coming from a group on on the other side of the room.

It didn’t actually require any amount of super hearing for the noise the various members of the “Bat family” were making. All of his adoptive children, with the inclusion of Barbara Gordon, Kate Kane, and some red headed guy Jon didn’t recognize were joking around with one another. From what Jon could pick up on, the one he could name as Red Hood -- admittedly, he didn’t know his real name -- and Dick were telling an anecdote about some prank they had pulled around the Wayne manor. But even with his super hearing, Jon wasn’t super focused on it. Instead, his eyes faltered over to the youngest member of the family, and his best friend.

Damian Wayne. An interesting person to say the least. They had sat next to each other during the dinner service, and while it had been great to be able to chat with his friend, Jon had been immensely distracted the entire time. The older teen normally wore dark colors when outside of his Robin uniform; blacks and grays made up the majority of his wardrobe. But tonight, for the occasion, Damina was dressed in a stunning robe. In all actuality, Jon had needed to sneak his mother’s phone out of her purse to Google it before he knew that this specific kind of robe was called a thawb. The garment was stark white with beautifully intricate silver embroidery along the collar, extending down the front as if it were a two inch ribbon. Matching embroidery flared around the sleeves as well. It was an undeniable shout out to the young male’s arab heritage, and definitely made him stand out, but no one could deny that the garment, quite likely custom tailored, was really a work of art.

Of course, Jon was focusing in on Damian. Who wouldn’t? He found himself migrating over to that group, but not really knowing how to mingle with most of them, so instead he circled them until he was close enough to Damian to tap him on the shoulder. The current Robin turned around with a raised eyebrow, which quickly settled when he saw who was getting his attention.

“Hey again.” Jon fumbled with the buttons on his blazer, ultimately undoing them so the jacket could fall open.

“Where did you disappear to?” It was as if Damian’s family was completely forgettable, because the boy turned away from them to face his friend. 

“I wanted more cake.” It was probably a stupid sounding excuse, but Jon was known for being weak to Devil’s food.

“Of course you did.” There was an unplaceable smirk on Damian’s face. Normally about now, Jon would be expecting a clever quip about guilty pleasures and “too much of a good thing”, but instead he got a pair of hands fixing his bowtie for him. The act made Jon’s face flush. “At least you’re enjoying yourself.”

Even though Damian had just adjusted his tie, Jon found himself pulling at it, and his collar, as if it would somehow allow more air to enter his lungs. “What about you?”

“It’s been interesting to say the least.” The older of the two shrugged. “It’s better than other social functions I’ve gone to with Father before.”

“That’s good.” The conversation petered off as the group beside them seemed to dissipate. Jason headed back to the bar, Dick had pulled up a chair next to Barabara so that they could continue chatting -- catching up from the looks of it --, and Tim and Stephanie seemed to be having a good time of their own trying to teach Duke, the newest member of this weird jumble of a family, how to dance while Kate only laughed at their efforts. It was a complete mystery where Cassandra went.

Jon couldn’t help his eye trailing over the dance floor once more. It looked fun. Of course, the second that thought passed through his mind, his eyes immediately flashed to the boy next to him. There was a wave of nervousness as the young male looked between the pair currently swirling around on the wood surface, and his partner in crime-fighting.

“Do you, um…” Yeah his face felt really hot, and was likely a completely horrible shade of pink. “Do you want to…” Ah yes. Faster than a speeding bullet. More powerful than a locomotive. More anxiety ridden then a chihuahua during a thunder storm. “Do you wanna dance?”

The question lingered in the air with Jon staring down at a scuff mark on the floor. He didn't look up to see if the expression on Damian’s face changed.

Rather than saying “yes” or “no”, Damian suddenly grabbed Jon by the wrist, taking charge in leading them the few steps so that they stood on the dance floor. Of course Jon’s facial expression betrayed him and showed off the combination of surprise and delight off with wide eyes and a growing smile. But once on the dance floor, Jon had no idea what to do. He really didn't think he’s make it this far. Thankfully, Damian was much more well versed in high-class social functions.

“I'll lead.” Damian started to arrange their limbs for the both of them, placing one of Jon’s hands on his shoulder, and gripping the other in his hand. There was maybe a foot of space between them. “Do you know how to dance?”

“I can square dance pretty well.” Smooth Kent. That’s totally what he’s talking about. “Um, I kinda know how too. I'll try not to step in your feet.”

Probably the most unexpected part of this development was a smile on Damian’s face. It was soft, with just the smallest curve at the edges of his lips, and showed more in the shine in his eyes than anything. “You’ll do fine.”

With that, Damian started leading them in a very slow dance. Emphasis on the slow. They kept in rhythm with the string quartet playing in the background, but moved every other beat in order to give Jon the time to adjust to the motion. As much as Jon wanted to enjoy this moment, and look up, he found his gaze was plastered on his feet; partially to make sure he didn't step on his partner’s toes, partially to hide the ever-growing and ever-glowing blush on his face.

“You’re doing really well.” Damian’s encouragement was greatly appreciated. It was nice to get that bit of praise. The piece they had started in slowly faded out before easily transitioning to another song. “Do you mind if I pick up the pace?”

Jon finally looked up from his feet, and made eye contact with hazel gems. Oh man. How did he get into this situation again? “Yeah. I mean, sure.”

“You think you can handle it?” The question was more teasing than anything, and much more reminiscent of Damian’s usual sarcasm.

“Of course I can!” The defense was an automatic response. “You know I'm a fast learner.”

Damian hummed as he began moving them again, stepping more in time with the beat. His hand on Jon’s waist pressed just a little harder, enough so that Jon was actually able to feel its presence through the fabric of his suit. “I know you are.”

The pair moved like this for the rest of the song. Nothing fancy, or too difficult. Though when the music changed once more, to a more upbeat piece, Jon immediately found himself being twirled under Damian’s arm. The spin had cause him off guard at first, and he awkwardly twisted his arm to complete it, but when the second twirl came around he couldn't help himself but laugh.

“I've never really danced before.” Jon admitted as he rested his hand back on Damian’s shoulder. “But it’s a lot of fun.”

“How did you learn then?”

“Mom taught me a bit.” Hopefully it wasn't too embarrassing to admit that you danced with your mother. “She said I would need to if I was gonna be with you. Er, be um…. Er… Be _friends_ with you I mean. I didn’t mean like--”

“I know.”

Awkward...

“I didn't really get what she meant though.”

“Lois is a smart woman.” It wasn't a surprise that Damian said that. He seemed to respect Lois quite a bit actually; which meant he just didn't argue with her when he came over.

“Not as smart as you.” The compliment was completely unplanned; one of those moments where he had opened his mouth, planning to do something more along the lines of taking a much needed deep breath, but instead the half-Kryptonian found himself wanting to slam his face into a lead wall. Of course it only made it worse that Damian didn't respond right away. Instead the older of the too had a thoughtful expression on his face. That expression quickly turned into a smirk as Jon found himself being pulled by the waist so that there was minimal space between their bodies.

“You look good tonight.” Damian changed the topic, and Jon could have sworn he felt his soul leave his body. Was there Kryptonite nearby? Because his knees were starting to get weak.

“Thank you.” Grape tomatoes, fire trucks, his cape, a stop sign -- all thing that were just about the same color as Jon’s face right now. “I don't really like the suit though.”

“Why’s that?”

Jon attempted to shrug one shoulder, but for some moronic reason decided to try it with the hand that was holding Damian’s, which only made the action awkward. “It’s just stiff and heavy.”

“Formal wear definitely doesn't suit you.” Damian paused as he waited for the song the change. He seemed to frown briefly at the quartet’s music choice, but that didn't stop the enjoyably slow dance the two partners-in-crime-fighting were sharing. “But still, you look nice.”

The compliment brought a goofy smile to Jon’s face, perhaps more than it should. On the subject of looks, there was no helping Jon as his eye once more trailed over Damian’s looks. That wasn't fair. No one within his age range should be allowed to look to attractive in all white cotton. One of Jon’s hands slid down Damian’s shoulder, gripping more so on his bicep instead, and rubbed lightly at the material with his fingertips.

“You look…” Jon bit at his bottom lip. “Well, you look really good too. I've never seen you in a, um.. You’ve never worn…”

“A thawb?” A dark eyebrow quirked up.

All Jon could manage in response was a nod of he head.

“I thought I would wear something more traditional for a wedding.” Damian was apparently the only one of the pair still paying attention to the music, because he quickly swirled the both of them around, and twirled Jon under his arm once more. “I wear western outfits for most of my Father’s events. But this occasion just needed something a little more…”

“You?”

Damian’s smile grew. “Yeah. Something more “me”.”

There were many words to describe Damian Wayne. Determined was one. Stubborn was another. Dangerous was commonly used. Angry, deadly, and violent were also often times used to describe the youngest son of the newly web billionaire. Jon knew Damian better than most, but very rarely was there ever a time when Jon would describe his dance partner as soft. That’s what that smile was though: soft. The way it pulled at the curve of his lips, forced his jaw to relax, and carried into his eyes. Completely derailing from his own train of thought, Jon found himself unable to look away from those eyes. At risk of sounding like he was trying to write a poem for his English class, Jon couldn't help but think of Damian’s eyes as malachite marbles. Wow. Yeah. He had it bad.

_“Awwwwwwn. They’re so cute.”_

_“Who knew the runt had it in him.”_

_“I'm gonna go bother them.”_

_“Don't you dare.”_

The curse of super hearing was that sometimes you could filter out the voices around you, and sometimes you couldn't. Unfortunately, Jon’s ears just had to pick up on a conversation held by voices he knew all too well.

_“I didn't know Dami was such a romantic!”_

_“I didn't know he could ballroom dance.”_

_“Duke… You’re the only one of us that can't.”_

Jon caught a glimpse over Damian’s shoulder of all his siblings, once against grouped up. All of their head were turned towards Jon and Damian.

_“They’re dating right?”_

_“Oooooh B is not gonna like that.”_

_“Nah I think it’ll be fine. Bruce actually likes Jon.”_

_“Aren't they a little young?”_

_“Young love is a beautiful thing Timbers.”_

Oh god. Did they have to be saying those things? Jon squeezed his eyes shut, leaning forward until his forehead knocked against Damian’s shoulder. The frames of his fake glasses pressed harshly against the bridge of his nose, but he didn't care. He was so embarrassed and just really needed to hide his face.

“You ok?” Damian’s voice was gentle, but speaking right into Jon’s ear definitely wasn't helping the situation. Not being able to, or wanting to, voice his little internal breakdown, Jon just nodded. The two continued to step in time to the music. At this point the motions were practically second nature. Jon could feel Damian looked around the hall, clearly trying to figure out what was going on. “Oh. It’s _those_ idiots, isn't it?”

“They aren't idiots.” Jon sighed and lifted his head, though he still kept his head down, hoping his overgrown bangs and blocky glasses would hide his face.

“No they’re pretty moronic.”

_“Damian and Jon, sitting in a tree--”_

“Ok… Maybe you’re right…” Jon let go of Damian’s arm to fix his glasses.

“Of course I am.” Damian quickly twirled Jon under his arm, as if that somehow was supposed to accentuate his point. When Jon came back into him, Damian’s arm wrapped around the small of his back. Their hands that had been clasped together slipped away from one another. Damian's now free hand relocated to Jon’s waist, while the half-Kryptonian found himself not really knowing what to do with his hands anymore, so he settled for testing them on top of his partner’s shoulders.

Honestly, Jon had completely lost track of time. He had no idea how long he had been dancing for, or how many songs had played, let alone what time it was. He wasn't tired though. Not really. Years of fighting, training, and pushing himself past his limits gave his young body crazy good stamina. He could probably keep dancing with Damian forever. That being said, he could still hear Damian’s family talking behind them; talking _about_ them.

“Um, Damian?” It was weird how every time Damian’s eyes met his, Jon could feel his heart skip a beat, but Damian’s always stayed steady. That wasn't something to be worried about… Was it?

“Hm?” Hopefully it wasn't.

“Do you ever get used to events like this?”

“I don't exactly go to weddings often.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Jon tried to make pouting face, but probably failed.

“To be honest, I'm not a fan.” Damian shrugged. “Too many people.”

“That’s fair…” Jon looked around the room. The reception was still in full swing. It looked like his parents had decided to sit down at their dinner table once more, and Selina and Bruce had apparently joined them. He was pretty sure he caught a glimpse of his mother taking photos. “I don't really like how fancy everything is, and there are a lot of adults here which is weird. But I'm having fun.”

“Do you want to leave?”

The stopped dancing, for the first time in Lord knows how long. There was a brief awkward period where they just stared at each other while the question processed in Jon’s head. Did he was to leave the party? Sure. That would mean he would finally get to change out of this suit. But did he want to leave Damian? Call him a sap, but no. No he didn’t. He could suggest going on patrol. Damian was always up for that. They could spend a little more time together that way. But Jon didn’t have his suit at all…. That would be a problem….

Well, here went nothing. “I do.” He looked down at his fee. “But I don’t want to leave you…”

It wasn’t exactly surprise on Damian’s face — perhaps it was more like amazement. Then there was that expression that he always got when he was thinking.it only manifested for a fraction of a second before he seemed to reach whatever conclusion he was looking for. “You don’t have to.”

Before he was actually able to process it, Jon was being pulled by the hand off the dance floor, and out of the reception hall. Jon didn’t know the layout of the building at all, but apparently Damian did, thought that shouldn’t be too much of a shock considering he’s a Robin. They went past a sign that read “employees only”, through some door that looked like it should lead to a storage closet but actually turned into a staircase, then up several flights of stairs to a rooftop exit.

Rooftops. Their domain. Well, Robin’s domain more than Superboy’s, but being partners for so long got Jon accustomed to the Gotham cityscape. Now that they were away from the party, Jon pulled his suit jacket off, struggling a bit to get his left arm out of the sleeve, and removed his bow tie, sticking it in his pocket.

“Want to sit down?” Jon suggested when they got to a wide, flat spot on the roof.

“Yes.”

Ma Kent didn’t raise Clark so that he could raise his own son to not be a gentleman. So Jon layer out his jacket on the cement. He smoothed out some of the wrinkles with his hands. “I um… don’t what your clothes to get dirty. White fabric and all.”

“How chivalrous of you.” The gray linen pants Damian wore peaked out from underneath his thaws as he sat down.

“So….” Jon sat down next to him. He tried to make sure he was completely on the jacket as well; his mother would kill him if he stained his pants. “Did you have fun tonight?”

Damian let out a sigh — not exactly the ideal response to that question — then looked out at the skyline. The sun was starting to go down, but behind the usual city haze the sky just looked like progressively darker shades of gray as the natural light faded away and city lights flicked on. The Robin leaned his weight against Jon’s shoulder, though that was likely because there wasn’t much room on top of the navy coat. “It was decent.” High praise by Damian’s standards. “You made it better.”

Yeah. Jon’s heart couldn’t take it anymore. “Yeah. Yeah you made it better too.”

Normally Jon hated being out in Gotham for too long. The city was just far too loud. But right now, he was far too focused on Damian. The older of the two was usually a rock; steady and unfaltering. Right now, while Damian’s breathing stayed as constant as ever, his heart was beating like a hummingbird. There was no way Jon could possibly pay attention to the cars honking, or the millions of voices below; not what it seemed like the almighty Wayne heir could be just as flustered as he was.

Jon leaned more of his weight against the other male, as if to test just how much contact was allowed. He could always blame it on the cold night air. The shift made Damian move just enough to accommodate for the new pressure against his torso. This change manifested in Damian’s arm sliding behind Jon, and leaning back on his palms, as if to cradle Jon against him. Being able to press more of his weight against Damian proved to be dangerous as exhaustion for hours of dancing and interacting with others started to catch up to the both of them.

The last thing Jon remembers was humming a little tune he had heard at the wedding, and feeling Damian’s chin resting on the top of his head.

* * *

 

The sun didn’t shine often in Gotham, but it was bright enough in the morning to wake up a half-kryptonian sleeping on a roof. Jon could remember that he fell asleep on a roof — that wasn’t exactly a detail he could forget. What his tired mind couldn’t figure out though was why he was comfortable. He shifted, and felt that the surface underneath him was soft, and certainly not a cold flat slab that he would expect from cement and gravel. It rose and fell, had a loose fabric against it, and felt…. moist?

Oh no.

Jon bolted upright, his eyes screaming at his as they adjusted to the light. He fake glasses had been smooshed awkwardly against his face, and one of the spokes look like it might be a little bent; he quickly folded them up and tucked them into his pants pocket. He looked down and saw none other than Damian, now blinking awake at the sudden movement. Jon’s eyes locked in on the slight damp patch on Damian’s chest only a fraction of a second before his brain registered the wet feeling on the corner of his mouth and chin.

Oh God no.

Thus began the internal freakout. There were two different thoughts that were rapid-firing through Jon’s head on repeat: First, _“Holy heck did we just sleep together? Of course not sleep-sleep together but oh no how did this happen and what does this mean?”_ Second, _“I drooled on his chest!? Time to go walk off a building.”_

“I suppose we fell asleep.” Damian’s voice barely registered on Jon’s brain, but when the older male pushed himself up, so that they were both sitting, with very little space between them, Jon’s body went completely stiff.

He drooled on him. He actually drooled on him. He slobbered all over the chest of a member of the Wayne family.

“Jon? Are you alright?”

That thawb was definitely expensive too. Oh no. How much would getting that dry cleaned cost?

“Uh, Jon?”

Sure, he’s rich and probably owns his own dry cleaning service, but would it be impolite not to offer to pay for it?

“Earth to Krypton.” A hand clamped down on Jon’s shoulder. “You ok in there?”

The anxiety of the situation all flooded out through Jon’s mouth. “I am so _so_ sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you. You probably think that’s so weird— Oh god I drooled on your clothes. I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean to. I totally understand if you hate me now. I’m just gonna go ask Batman for kryptonite. I’m making it even more awkward now aren’t I? I’m sorry. This is so uncomforta—“

“Jon I swear for God if you apologize one more time.” Damian interrupted the rambling hero. A lack of Jon’s endless string of words turned into an uncomfortable silence as Damian tried to process what the explosion of run-on sentences meant. After a moment, and running his hand over his face and through his hair, Damian finally reinitiated an actual conversation. “How does mutual physical affection translate to me hating you?”

It wasn’t necessary to say that Jon was vastly confused right now, but he was. “But… You’re never affectionate, especially not like… Well not like this. I completely fell asleep on you! I thought you’d be upset by that…”

A frown immediately appeared on Damian’s face. “I thought I showed you affection all the time.”

“Wha—” Jon’s brain was doing somersaults in his skull trying to wrap his head around what was just said. “Um… If you have, I haven’t noticed?” It hadn’t meant to come out as a question, but it did.

“I put my hand on your shoulder after missions,” Damian started. “and put my back against yours during fights. I lean against you when I show you new information on cases. Not to mention I let you carry me when we fly, lean on my shoulder, and tousle my hair.”

“That’s you… showing affection?”

“Of course.” Damian shrugged. “Do you ever see me engaging in such contact with anyone else?”

“Well….” Suddenly a spot on his left shoe was very interesting. “I guess not…”

“What do you define as affection then?” It looked like Damian was actually curious.

Jon shrugged. “I don’t know. Hugs. Holding a hands. That kind of stuff.”

“So everything that occurred last night.”

It wasn’t a question. No. That was definitely a statement. A very truthful statement. A beautifully, horribly, wonderfully, terribly, truthful statement. “Y-yeah. I… Um… I guess so.”

“Were you uncomfortable with any of that affection?”

“Of course not!” Way to blurt that out Kent. “I mean. No. Not really.”

Damian let a smile appear on his face, and my goodness was it a beautiful one. Once again, he reached for Jon’s hand, and once again, Jon’s heart did somersaults in his chest. There was a tender squeeze as they subconsciously laced their fingers together. “Are you uncomfortable now?”

Jon was thankful for the cool Gotham air with how hot his skin felt right now, though it likely didn’t help keep his blush at bay. “No. Not really.”

Damian leaned forward just slightly; enough so that there was a mere three inches of space between the tips of their noses. “You’re blushing.”

Jon’s eye’s bounced around Damin’s face, not sure where to look. How do you pick what feature to focus on on the most beautiful face you’ve ever seen? How do you pick between eyes you want to swim in, and a cocky grin you want to-- “Yeah. I probably am.”

“It looks good on you.” There just the slightest falter in Damian’s heartbeat. “Foolish, but good.”

“Oh. Well that’s good. I guess.” The words were coming out without any thought.

“It is.”

Their foreheads rested against one another. The close proximity made it impossible for his eyes to focus, so instead Jon let his eyes close. His breath came out as a sigh, and it felt like a world of tension was released.

“Still comfortable?” There was a light nudge as Damian asked the question.

Jon’s automatic response was to nod, but he couldn’t move much, or didn’t dare to, given their current position. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

What followed next was the softest, most minimalistic kiss. Their lips barely brushed together before recreating those millimeters of space between them, as if to test just one more time that this was ok. A second kiss immediately followed. It was soft. A sweet, simple, and mutual pressure. Nothing more, but nothing less and that’s what mattered most. Yet Jon found himself smiling into it.

Gotham was waking up underneath them. rush hour traffic building up the sounds of car horns. It was a loud city. But Jon couldn’t hear any of it as he sat on top of that building, with his arms shifting to around Damian’s neck. One of Damian’s hands ran slowly up and down his forearm. “Should we be getting you home soon?”

Jon shook his head against Damian’s shoulder. “Faster than a speeding bullet, remember?”

There was a small huff of air from Damian before he planted a quick kiss into Jon’s temple. “Of course I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks! Thanks for reading! This was my first collaborative piece with the author BayPearl. She has a few Batman related fics of her own, so if you like our wonderful caped crusaders and angst thick enough to cut with a butter knife, head over to her page and check her out!


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